


Child of Man

by SilverShadowBeliever (TotooftheSouth)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood and Gore, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotooftheSouth/pseuds/SilverShadowBeliever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day the puppet strings would all snap. Until then, she'd have to keep dancing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Child of Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Entomancy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entomancy/gifts).



> For Ento, who requested a Ridgedog and Lomadia annoyance-interaction piece. Some people just want to watch the world burn :P

Also, oh dear, Ento. You’ve hit the magical prompt combination XD I’m always overly excited to do the Ridge, Lomadia, and hostility. :P As a result this came out longer and quite a bit darker than I’d intended but I hope it’s still okay!

 

The most disturbing thing, Ridge decided, was that she didn’t even try anymore.

At some point during the last several games, Lomadia had given up. The change was poignant. Of the various things he gathered from these contests, her rage had been one of the most potent. Now, its absence left a noticeable void in the power he took from them.

She’d taken to finding a secluded area of the arena and waiting until someone came along to kill her, putting up just enough of a fight to ensure they wouldn’t hesitate. It was infuriating.

Naturally, Ridge assumed that she needed a bit of a nudge.

-

“You know, I’ve erased entire existences for less than this?”

“Do it, then. Erase me.” Lomadia leaned on her sword and they both watched the blade sink an inch further, another of Ridge’s ribs snapping with a wet pop. He let out a rattling cough and a trickle of blood spilled over his lips, dribbling down his chin and soaking into his cravat. She made a noise of disgust and he gave her a bloody grin, all teeth and glistening red.

“You’re too much fun, Lo. Especially when you’re pissed off. I almost get a little anxious about what you’ll do.” His grin became predatory. “It’s exhilarating. ”

With an annoyed grunt, she dug her heels into the ground and jerked backwards, the sword tearing free. Grabbing hold of one of his lapels, she swung him around and threw him to the ground, dropping down and driving the sword back in, this time into his gut. The slide was much easier this time and, with hardly any resistance at all, the blade tore straight through and embedded itself into the earth. She released the hilt of the sword and flexed her stiff fingers. Ridge shifted experimentally and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Lomadia felt a thrill of triumph as she watched that stupid grin finally fall from his face.

“Is this ironwood?” He ran his fingers along the bit of blade protruding from his stomach, applying the slightest bit of magic. Sure enough, it was like trying to set fire to stone. The blade buzzed, static beneath his touch and he sneered. He hated immutable things.

“So,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, “Little Lo has been playing where she shouldn’t.”

“Fair is fair,” she spat, giving the blade a vicious jerk. “You’re the one who cheated first.”

Ridge’s grimaced but still managed a puzzled expression. “Pardon?”

“Five games ago.” Another jerk. Harder. “You interfered.”

He blinked, thinking back. Five games? A sudden memory occurred to him then in a flash of recollection. The game had lasted longer than usual and food had become scarce but, more importantly, he had gotten bored. So, he’d found Lomadia and presented her with a thick slice of cake, hoping for some conversation while they waited for the game to come to an end. Not that much talking had actually happened, as she’d fallen upon the food ravenously, hardly sparing him a glance, though that had been almost as entertaining. But, surely…

He looked at her, dumbfounded. “Really? That’s what this is about? It was only a piece of cake.”

“Cake no one else had! Half of the others starved to death that night and the other half were so weak that I had to kill them the next day so that I,” she paused here, closing her eyes tightly against the memory, “wouldn’t have to watch them suffer. You helped me win.”

“I wasn’t aware you cared so much about winning honorably,” Ridge said slowly, carefully studying the woman atop him. Something seemed off.

“It’s not about honor,” said Lomadia, fixing him with a dark look. “I didn’t need any help.”

Suddenly it clicked.

“I see,” he said softly, “You mean, you didn’t need my help.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Ripping the sword from his abdomen fiercely, she cast it aside and hauled him up to face her, hands fisted in his shirt front. Her voice was louder now, almost thunderous in the silence of the glade. “If you’re going to force me to murder people I care about, at least let me do it on my own.”

She took a steadying breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was lower but strained.

“I don’t know what it is you think you owe me, but stop it. I don’t need anything from you.” His blood was now seeping into the front of her dress, though his wound had already begun to heal, and she stood, wiping absently at the mess.

He considered her for a moment. She looked so fierce right then, furious and drenched in his own blood. Perhaps he should have been feeling indignant at her insolence but all he felt was that inexplicable fondness he’d held for her since the day Xephos had introduced them. He wasn’t that kind of god but he imagined that this was something akin to what he’d feel if he was, this strange cross between a parent’s pride and the reverence for a particularly lovely piece of art. With a start, he realized that this feeling had been absent since she’d launched her little rebellion.

He began to laugh and Lomadia tensed. It was a hair raising sound.

“Alright,” he said, finally getting to his feet and brushing himself off, “Because it means so much to you.” His chuckles had died down and now he merely smiled at her, perhaps more genuinely than he’d ever smiled in his life. She found the soft expression decidedly creepy.

She eyed him warily and waited, knowing him far too well to expect that there would be no conditions to the agreement. She wasn’t dissapointed.

“However,” he continued, “You’ve been quite boring recently, Lo.”

Her stomach dropped at the look in his eye, a threatening kindness.

“Don’t do it again.” He held out his hand expectantly.

Lomadia stared at the offered palm. The rage she’d felt before had all but completely fizzled away, leaving a bone deep exhaustion in it’s wake. She met his eyes again, took in the warning and the promise they held. 

Wordlessly she grasped his hand and found an odd kind of comfort there.


End file.
